Gloria, In Excelsis Deo
by Moria Polonius
Summary: Christmas time, mistletoe and wine... Right? Wrong. This is the Death Eater's Christmas -- and they don't waste their time for trivialities like presents and carols. But they do visit a church... what for? Look and see. A story a little on the dark side.


**Gloria, In Excelsis Deo**

This a Death Eater Christmas -- the ARSWLL challenge. A little on the dark side. 

Please forgive me spelling, grammar and any misuse of words and expressions. This is unbetaed and un-spell-checked and English is not my first language... No, don't go! Give it a try! 

***

"Gloria... in excelsis Deo!" 

The walls of the Birmingham Oratory were soaked with Faith, there was no denying of that. Every believer who has ever entered the temple has left their mark. Throught it's turbulent history the church has witnessed thousands of people pleading for small and big mercies, swearing their lives and hearts to One True God, despite everything. 

And it showed. Especially on the Christmas day, when, prompted by a long-standing tradition, the local Catholics celebrated the birth of their God in a church decorated with christmas trees. 

Nicholas Avery, standing among the faithful, shivered. It wasn't cold, it was the view of hundreds, maybe thousands -- he couldn't tell -- Muggles, all of them praying. He had participated in the Theft of Faith before, but only once. It was eighteen years ago, in the Westminster Cathedral. He was young and foolish and had no idea what he was getting into. Now he knew and the knowledge was making him shiver. 

He could remember Evan Rosier's confusion at the "For this is my body" and "For this is the chalice of my blood" lines delivered by the priest. It sure could make you think of vampires, all this bussines with eating the body and drinking the blood. He could remember Leocadia, looking around nervously and muttering "Stupid Muggles, stupid Muggles" over and over again. He remembered Anabell Wilkes commenting that the Gregorian chant was very impressive in such a spacious building and why the Hogwarts Song couldn't sound like that since _Hogwarts: the History_ claimed the Gregorian chant to be the most perfect form of singing? He remembered Snape twirling his wand in his fingers impatiently and trying not to touch anybody -- which was difficult in the crowd. 

And he remembered his best friend, Lewis Lestrange, holding his mind in the state of hazy extasy, the chant magnifying the hypnotic illusion. 

This time was different. 

"Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world," the priest intoned. 

"Have mercy on us," the faithful replied, kneeling down. 

No Gregorian chant -- this time it was the Gloria song. No Evan. No Anabell. No Imperius. 

All impressions were clear, acute. To Avery's left -- Snape, standing stiffly, an emerald Holder in one hand, the other tightened on his wand in the pocked of his black cloak. He didn't even try to pretend he was praying. Nicholas glanced to the right to see the man he had considered his best friend most of his life, a man he didn't know anymore. Lewis. The small spark of insanity that smouldered in Lewis's eyes before Azkaban has become a flame, burning furiously. Next to Lewis was his wife, Leocadia. Like her husband, she didn't look healthy. She was too thin and there was a sickly pallor to her face. But she was holding her head up high, looking down on the kneeling Muggles with cold derision. Alert and ready as always, determined to carry out the Dark Lord's commands. Behind the four of them stood two Elders -- also freshly out of Azkaban -- Mulciber and Columbus. 

"Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world," the priest repeated. 

"Have mercy on us," the crowd answered once more. 

Nicholas braced himself. Soon, very soon. 

***

"Gloria... in excelsis Deo!" 

The long, rising and then descending sound of _Gloria_ was followed by the constantly rising _In excelsis_ and ended with the short _Deo_. 

No wonder the Muggles claimed to feel the presence of God of one kind or another while in the temple, thought Snape. The music echoed against the ornate walls and columns with perfect harmony. He would probably experience nirvana hmself if he let the music overtake him. Which was certainly not going to happen, given his company and the task ahead. 

Hurry up, Moody, Snape thought, barely aware of the irony of his plea, Hurry up. 

"Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world," the priest intoned. 

"Have mercy on us," the faithful replied, kneeling down. 

Heads bowed, lips moving, hands pressed to the hearts -- they prayed. All freshly out of confession, believing themselves cleansed and worthy, ready to receive the holy communion -- they prayed. United by the impression of something larger than life -- they prayed. 

Snape felt like screaming. What he was about to do -- because he was the one to do the essential thing -- filled him with a strange mixture of fear, guilt and anticipation. Not that he believed in God -- he didn't, therefore he couldn't commit the sacrilege. Not that he liked Muggles -- he didn't. But the awarness that all the power gathered in this place, all the magic the Muggles released from their hearts -- so pure and noble in it's intentions -- was about to be horribly abused, twisted beyond the recognition and channeled to fuel Evil... And that he would be the one to twist and channel it... 

If the Aurors don't find them, don't stop them... It will be their own fault not his. The location was decided upon in the last minute, but Snape had told the Aurors what to look for. 

"Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world..." 

"Have mercy on us." 

Just a minute left... 

***

"The Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world..." 

"Grant us peace." 

_Now._

The crowd became immersed in their own personal conversation with the image of God who inhabited their minds. 

In silence, broken only by the ritual bell at the foot of the altar, Avery watched as the Lewis, Mulciber and Columbus raised their wands high above their heads and murmured _"Constare!"_

Nicholas thought the most bizarre part of the Constare spell was not the sudden stillness that seemed to overwhelm all the people, but the unnatural disharmony of this stillness. If the Muggles were merely frozen into the immobile statues, the atmosphere would be easier to bear. But they were still whispering the words of prayer, each and every single one of them, in their own rythm. Their thoughts were lost in the universe where only their personal relation to God existed, their minds wrapped in worship. 

And the power of their faith was literally leaking out of them, almost tangible to the sensitive wizards, almost visible. Nicholas shuddered. Dear Merlin... What could hapen if the Muggles learnt how to use this power? It was a magical power which could be used against wizards... But then, if they could use it, wouldn't it make them wizards? 

Avary watched as Snape walked forward; there was an odd stiffness to his usually graceful movements. As though he was trying to hold back. The tall man in black cloak couldn't look more out of place in front of the altar, in the spot reserved for the priest. He was like the herald of Death presenting his scythe to the crowd celebrating rebirth. 

Snape placed the Holder, a small emerald sphere, on the altar and, his wand moving in spiral pattern in the air, started the Theft of Faith. 

Avery has never tried to catch the words of incantation, but they were alien to his ears and unearthly musical. 

And the Power of Faith suddenly took a form. It was a form of silverly light, shining softly and falling into the magical spiral that was whirling madly, leading it into the Holder. The Holder was begining to glow with the combination of green and silver light. 

Amazing. So much power locked in such a small object. Simply amazing. 

The flow of silver light was slowly getting waker, it was the sign that the specialists in commanding spells couldn't hold the Constare much longer. They were not gooing to quit though. As long as the spell was binding the minds and hearts of the believers, the power was flowing. After few moments, however, the spell simply faded away. 

The Muggles begun to raise their heads, their prayers finished, ready to get up and receive the communion. The confusion upon seeing Snape with the wand and emerald ball in his hands was clear on their faces. The awarness of being drained of something started to sink in. 

It was Avery's turn. Avery's and Leocadia's. 

Quickly, they marched down the main nave, feeling the eyes of hundreds Muggles focusing on them, hushed voices asking what's going on. With a little magical suggestion from Lewis, Mulciber and Columbus, all people were looking at the two strange figures at the foot of an altar; Snape has already went down. 

Nicholas took the left side of the church, Leocadia the right. 

_"Oblivate."_

***

Caroline Eddington stood up from her seat, feeling strange emptiness in her heart. Just a second before she could have sworn to feel the joyous presence of Almighty, but now... 

Tears prickled under her eyelids. It was not the way she should feel on the Christmas Day, the day baby Jesus was born and all good people were granted heaven. Should she even go to the communion? 

Yes, she decided. The mystical symbolism of a wafer has always elevated her spirits. 

Two people, dressed in weirdly looking cloaks, passed her. Strange for them to leave before the communion.

***

Nicholas felt a little dizzy. This kind of Oblivate requiered so much strength; it was almost beyond him to erase several minutes from so many minds. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he opened them, he was surrounded by his friends. 

"Are you all right, Nicholas?" Lewis asked quietly. They went up the aisle to the door of the church. 

Avery nodded. "I'll be fine in a moment." 

He glanced at Snape -- the other man was looking around suspiciously, but other than that his face was blank. The emerald Holder was cradled in his hands, glowing eeriely, silver light through the green crystal. Avery felt the bile raising in his throat. All this power... 

The others were watching it too, as they walked towards the exit. 

"I'm sick of green and silver," Leocadia muttered, her Hufflepuff orgins resurfacing. 

Lewis smirked. "These are the colours of power, get used to them, my love." 

They reached the door and the bliding sunlight hit their eyes. When their pupils got accustomated to the brightness... 

Oh f***, Nicholas thought with a hint of panic, right before pointing his wand at himself and shouting _"Apparate!"_

The Aurors have traced them. 

***

The power vibrating underneath Snape's skin, the pain stabbing his skull, the extasy of having Faith directed at him, the guilt gripping his heart... they all dissolved into uncontrollable rage. 

"You are late, Moody!" he yelled, clenching his fists around the wand and the Holder. "YOU ARE LATE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!! YOU--" 

"Calm down, Snape!" barked Mad-Eye, his magical eye taking in the pale silverly-greenish light beneath Snape's fingers. Out of six Death Eaters the Potions Master was the only one left, the rest have managed to Disapparate. 

"How many big Catholic churches is there in this country, Moody! You could have surrounded each of them with dozen of Aurors and stop--" 

"_Shut up_, Snape," Moody hissed. "Don't teach me how to do my job!" he clinked up to Snape and poked his hand with his wand. "Is that it? The Power of Faith?" 

Understanding dawned on Snape. "You knew. You waited. You wanted me to perform the Theft." 

Moody didn't seem perturbed by those accusations. "_We_ obviously couldn't do it... and the Dementors are getting harder and harder to control. The Power of Faith is an excellent weapon against those things."

"You used me," Snape stated flatly. 

"You seem surprised. Why else would we tolerate you?" 

The younger man greeted his teeth trying to overcome the urge to toss the Holder to the ground and smash it into million of pieces. Alastor must have caught the intention for he reached to remove the sphere from his hand. A sick hollow laughter suddenly twisted Snape's insides. 

"Oh sweet Mercury, Moody," he gasped. "I brought you a freakin' Christmas present, didn't I? You should have told me to put a red cap on and go down your chimney!" 

"A red cap?" Alastor grinned wolfishly and it looked so nightmarishly on his mutilated face that the other Aurors winced. "Isn't it a Muggle custom, Slytherin?" 

"You're right," Snape's voice turned low and manacing. "Red doesn't suit a Slytherin. Perhaps there should be no more presents. Perhaps I should keep all I know to myself." 

Mad-Eye smiled triumphantly. "Some spots never come off, eh Snape?" 

"Maybe I don't want them to," Snape whispered before he whirled around and Disapparated, unstopped by any of the Aurors. 

***


End file.
